


A Million Little Changes Didn't Change a Thing

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU ish, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Gen, Jessica Moore - Freeform, John Winchester - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if Sam didn't go to Stanford?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Million Little Changes Didn't Change a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by an anonymous user on tumblr.  
> "An au where Sam doesn't go to Stanford would be really cool if you were willing to write it"  
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warning: Brief mention of self-harm that is probably easy to miss.   
> Also, a little SamxJess.

              "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" John Winchester bellowed at the son who had his back turned, gripping the door handle tightly. Sam closed his eyes, and began to open it, but stopped. He through his duffel bag to the ground, and angrily exited to John's room in their motel. For a few moments, the air was still, the room completely silent. The eldest Winchester sighed, rubbing his neck, then walked over to the white mini-fridge atop the stained the counter.

          "Can you believe the nerve on your brother, boy?" the hunter shook his head as he poured himself a tall glass of whiskey, then thrumming his fingers against the glass containing the amber liquid as he drank it. "What was he even thinkin' in that thick skull of his? College," John snorted. "And he wonders why  his judgement can't be trusted.

        "Sir, I don't think he meant-"

     "Don't think he meant  _what,_ boy? Don't think he meant to betray his family by runnin' off to become a... a who-knows-what, while we're back here, bustin' are asses? Don't think he meant to disrespect me by disobeying every order I ever gave him? You defending him, Dean?"

       "No. No, sir."

* * *

             After that, things in the Winchester Family were...well, lets just go with tense. Not that they weren't tense before. But now they all knew that Sam had attempted to do the unthinkable in John's eyes. That he had "betrayed" them.

           For one thing, he was never, and I mean  **never** allowed to hunt on his own. Not that he was before, but Sam had always assumed that when he was 18, he might be allowed to exert a little more independence. After all, that was about how old Dean had been when he started doing hunting-related things solo. But Sam always had a 'Partner' though he was fairly sure that was a euphemism for 'Chaperone'. Then he remembered that implied that someone was trying to make him feel good.

         Even doing research on his own was met with skepticism, which, frankly, Sam thought couldn't be any more unreasonable, as he'd done research on his own plenty of times before. But, he supposed this was what he got for trying to leave.

            So, things like this became a pattern. Sam never worked a case unless he was with Dean or John, and any research he presented always became doubted or second guessed. There were many times when John was telling Sam how terrible he was at everything (right in front of witnesses) and Sam would get visibly upset, which only led to John berating him even more.

             Sometimes, Dean would cover for Sam, offer to hang out with him, or let him go somewhere, but he never defended him from it. He had his orders and he was going to follow them, miserable little brother or no. It went on like this for years before there was any real change, or, any change at all, really.

* * *

          Sam was 22. It had been 4 years since he had tried to escape John Winchester's brigade for boys, and Sam and Dean were in Palo Alto. Great.

  Sam was convinced that John had sent them here specifically to torment him. Alas, there was a real case, signs of demonic activity at Stanford, but all the same,  Sam got the feeling that his father definitely knew that this would be a painful job to work for him. So naturally, the rushed over as soon as possible. Nonetheless, people were getting hurt, and they had to stop it. After settling at a motel near the college, they decided to go see a witness; a girl who claimed her friend had beaten her up and thrown her against a wall without even touching her. Her name was Jessica Moore.

          They visited her at the hospital, frauding their way in by waving their fake FBI badges around enough times. When they were in the hospital room, they were glad to find her awake. 

        "Hey," Sam said softly. He was a bit awe-struck by her; she was extraordinarily beautiful. But he quickly collected himself. "We're with the FBI, investigating your case." She looked at him strangely.

        "I don't understand- why would the FBI care about this?" Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Dean jumped in before he had a chance.

      "Well, you have to understand, Miss, what you're telling people, it seems unlikely." Her face fell.

        "You think I'm lying."

      "No!" Sam responded quickly. "We're just, uh," he sighed, fingers running through his hair. "We're just trying to get the full story, make sure something like this doesn't happen again. That okay by you?" Tilting her head at him for a moment, she then nodded, smiling slightly. He ducked his head.

       "So," Dean cleared his throat, glaring slightly at his little brother. "You said you knew your attacker?"  Once again, the girl nodded, visibly upset.

     "He was my friend- Brady. I've known him since highschool. He was never violent. But then, awhile back, a little less than a year ago, he started to change. I didn't say anything- but, I was worried about him. I thought he might've gotten into drugs or something. He's been on a bad track for a while now. Then, two days ago, I was in my apartment, in the bathroom. I don't know how he got in. I mean, the door was locked. Bolted," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can be a little paranoid. Anyways, one minute I was all alone, the next...he was drunk, I think. He kept on putting his hands on me. I tried to shove him off. That made him mad. He started screaming, calling me a bitch and the like, you know? And, then I just remember this really sharp pain in my head. The doctors think I just have head trauma, but I know what happened. He threw me. Without..without even touching me." They listened to her story, keeping quiet so as to get the full scoop. Sam nodded sympathetically as the story came to a close. 

    "That must've been hard, seeing your friend like-" but before he could finish consoling the poor girl, Dean interrupted with the most conspicuous question of all time.

    "Did you smell anything odd in the apartment when this was going in?"

   With a shocked look upon her face, she answered. "Um, I had some incense burning?" Dean sighed, shaking his head. Later, at a diner, he confided his thoughts in Sam. 

    "It doesn't make sense, Sammy. Why would a demon be after this girl?" Sam shrugged, poking his salad with a fork. 

     "Who knows? Maybe... maybe it's just being a demon, you know? Maybe it was trying to have a very twisted kind of 'fun.' " Dean glanced at Sam skeptically. 

     "No way, man. These things always have some sort of motivation. It just doesn't add up." Sam tried to head back to the motel early, but Dean insisted on paying the bill  and coming with him. Later that night, after Dean had finally passed out, Sam grabbed a jacket and left, just needing some time to be alone. So he walked, in the chilly night, with the knowledge that Dean would be dead to the world for at least 4 hours. Sam was so deep in thought about this Jess girl, at first he didn't even realize that she was walking up towards him.

      "Agent Rutsey, right?" she asked, arms up against her chest, blonde hair back in a messy ponytail.

     "Uh, yeah. But you can call me Sam."

      "Okay, _Sam,_ " she smirked and he grinned. "What are you doing out here?"

   Sam had many stories being written away in his head as an excuse for why he was out so late. But some strange force made him opt for the truth. 

        "I, uh, just needed to get away awhile. You know, the night air and all that."

        "Right," she replied, and ever-so-subtly shivered. Sam, ever-so-perceptive, quickly slipped of his jacket and non-verbally offered it to her. "Oh, I couldn't, then you'd be cold."

    He shrugged. "I like the cold." Which was a total lie. He hated the cold, always had. But something within him desperately wished that this girl wouldn't suffer anymore than she already had. Her face was still full of hesitation as she accepted the garment, but she accepted it nonetheless. 

       "Thank you," her strong, yet sweet voice whispered. So many people could say that phrase and not mean it at all, but Jessica Moore said it slowly, and articulately. Like she meant it. He shrugged his response, as she glanced around. "Do you think..Do you think you could walk me home? I'm not usually such a scaredy cat, but.."she trailed off, and Sam understood. 

      "Yeah, of course."

* * *

 

          Sam went back to the motel after he walked her home. He was out like a light for hours, and only woke when Dean shook him awake. He was glad of it, though. He'd been having an awful dream.

        "Sammy, wake up, we gotta go." Sam grunted his response. After he'd gotten up, and gotten dressed, Dean spoke to him.

    "What's up?" he asked as the elder Winchester handed him a beer.  Sam rolled his sleeve down quickly before Dean could notice the recent scar on his forearm that hadn't been the product of a hunt.

       "Remember that girl, Jessica?" A picture of her flashed in Sam's mind as he nodded. "Well, she died last night. I think you're a suspect." 

       Sam gaped for a moment. "Oh my God. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

        "Why didn't you tell me you were going out last night? You were the last one seen with her." Sam hung his head a moment. 

        "I was just walking. Oh my god. What are we going to do?"

        "Hit the road, go to Jericho." Sam looked at his brother like he was insane, because, frankly, he was. "Quit starin' at me like I'm some axe murderer, you're the one suspected of murdering Miss California, 2005."

         "Why Jericho?"

          "Why all the questions?" Dean hoped that would shut his brother up, but he just kept pressing. 

          "Dean. Why Jericho?" Dean hung his head.

           "Dammit, Sammy, it's nothing. I just gotta creepy as voicemail from Dad. Seemed like he wanted us to shag us over there." Sam sighed, chuckling slightly. 

      "Maybe I should just stay here. After all, I'm clearly not wanted." Dean was surprised at how openly Sam said this, but he played it cool.

        "No can do, gigantor. Dad said to drag your ass along.

* * *

              The drive to Jericho was silent. Well, as silent as it could be when you're playing the Greatest Hits of Mullet Rock in your car. Finally noticing that Sam seemed rather upset, Dean turned the music down and sighed.

        "What's wrong."

   Sam looked to his left for a minute an raised his eyebrows. "Nothing, I'm fine." To this, Dean punched Sam's shoulder softly. 

      "Come on, you can tell me." Sam stayed quiet. They drove, completely quiet for several minutes. Five minutes later, Sam spoke.

      "I think it's after me."

      "Huh?"

      "The thing that called Mom, the thing that killed Jessica-"

      "You mean that girl? Sammy-"

      "For once in your life, please just let me say something. It's motivation attacking that girl was trying to draw me there. And when it realized that I...that she was my friend, he killed her. The demon killed Mom in my nursery. It was after me." A beat skipped.

      "Don't be stupid."

* * *

            They drove all the way to Jericho. When Sam managed to open the door of the room John was supposed to be staying in, they walked in. No one was there. Just pictures of victims and articles all around.

      "Salt, cats' eye shells? He was worried," Sam observed. "Do you think the demon took him?"

      " .. 'Naw. But he's definitely missing. Look what he left behind." Sam glanced up to see Dean holding John's Journal. 

       "He never goes anywhere without that thing. Something's wrong."        

* * *

 

            They finished the case for him. Once Constance was taken care of, Sam spoke.

          "Dean. I want answers. Whether you think so or not, this demon is after me. I need to know why. You're not stopping me this time. We've gotta find Dad. We've got work to do. "

 

 

 


End file.
